Some Call It A Letter, I Call It Keyboard Abuse
by PadlockAmethyest
Summary: Jenny Anderson is cold and withdrawn but wants to come out of her ice shell to prevent further harm to Mohinder Suresh after her unwillingness to open up has left him in the hospital. She sends him a letter explaining everything while he recovers.
1. Opening Letter

Jenny Anderson. It isn't my real name but it's something. It's better than a constant reminder of a stained past. Jenny Anderson provides a clean slate and only I get to choose what to write on the tablet.

At least that's what I thought until you walked up and starting writing with some big fucking chalk.

I can do things. Things I thought only happened in entertainment mediums. You know, like those cheesy Japanese anime shows where '_a seemingly normal girl' _is '_thrown into a world she never dreamed of' _blah blah blah. That kind of deal. Well for one, I wasn't normal. I'm not normal. In fact, is anything normal? What is normal? It's a bullshit term created by men long ago to set a standard on how they should act and feel. Anyone who was below the bar had the right to be eliminated. That's what I think anyway and,honestly, if you think about it, it's true.

You probably don't care about anything I just wrote. You're just waiting for me to explain these "things" as I called them. You should know what they are though, shouldn't you? You were not only there to witness my first incident with these things but you're a victim of them yourself. Sorry. Yes, this is quite impersonal. What else are you going to do in that hospital until the big dictator doctor let's you leave? And I know how you can barely stand to be off your computer for 15 minutes so think of this as a gift. When you first went out to look for me I was nothing more than a name and a mission. The day we met was my first real incident with...it. Hmm, maybe you were the catalyst that woke my dormant 'powers'? Hehe, kind of like the prince in the fairy tales that awakens the princess. You're a lousy prince, if that's the case, and you awoke a highly lethal princess. Good job!! I hope you lull that fact over while your presumably hot nurse spoon feeds you little green jello squares. I've never met an ugly nurse and I wouldn't blame you if you left me for some big tit hussy. Fuck, I'm sorry, Mohinder. All that's happened in the past few days, plus you being in the hospital, is just taking its toll on me. I'm afraid I'm reverting back to my crude NYC ways.

Ugh, pettiness aside, I think the very least I could do by sending this cold email is thank you. Trust me when you're discharged I'll be thanking you everyday in some way.Also, I feel I should provide you with an explanation about what led to what happened the other night. My past.Even if you don't bother reading this I might feel a little betterjust knowing that I got this out.

With the way the world is right now, this war between mutant rejects, I'm not sure if I'd have those moments to tell you how I got this way. I always thought that if _we_made it far enough I would've told you my real name, at least, and the origins of Jenny Anderson. These things are just too heavy to be carrying around for so long. I feel the more I hide from you the more I put you in danger. Well, further danger. What's happened to you already eats away at me every hour. I wish I could just heal you up myself in that hospital room. It would be so much quicker but then that would undeniably expose us. Judging from earlier incidents I doubt the world could handle straight-out-of--the-fairy tales ice queen. Then again if you were there to guide me I could...would. It's hard to concentrate at the moment. There's so much I wanna say and I'm not sure how to tell you all, if not, all of it/ Where to begin? It's a delicate matter and needs to be treated with care. If I start at the wrong moment you may get the wrong impression and the story wouldn't be right,

Let's start with the most shocking. I'll explain the story beind those later on in this prequel.

But remember this please. What I told you before is true, when we laid down on the roof and you held me. I love you. I never thought I would ever say those words to any one individual but I do. The fact that I love you is the only reason why I would tell you any of this.

1. I killed 2 people before you met me.

2. I've been institutionalized, briefly.

3. Suicide has been on mind (and body) on more than one occasion.

4. The 3 events listed do tie in with each other.

Are you still reading? If you are, thank you. By the time you finished reading this you'll probably be too disgusted with me. Or maybe I'm just too melodramatic. Fuck, ignore that last sentence and read if you want, love.


	2. Spoilers

I've been in New York my whole life before I met you. Raised in a lot of small towns. The same small towns with the same small minded people. My parents were gypsies in that sense and only that sense. I never understood why we never left New York since they couldn't stand to stay in one house for more than a month. Sometimes we would just get up and move to the house next door to one we lived in at the moment. That instability is most likely what made New York City the ideal place for me.

I'm 23 years old. Not 27. My parents changed my age frequently to get some discount or something they wanted. So in New York City I did the same. But I have a feeling you knew I was lying about my age from the beginning. You and that little laptop of yours know just about everything. I love that.

I think I had an incident with my ability once before I met you. Or maybe other times and I just can't remember. I was young. Really young. I think my mother was at work for the day and I tried to make a sandwich. I was hungry and my father was sleeping. I couldn't reach the top shelf to grab a plate, so tragically short I was as a kid. I think I pulled a chair up and grabbed what plate I could. I fell off the chair and the plate fell out of my hand and broke. My father woke up from the crash and ran to see what happened. He saw me on the floor with broken porcelain everywhere, the kitchen a mess with bread crumbs and jelly and peanut butter. He stared at me and I didn't like what I saw in his eyes. I remember his screaming, how harsh his voice was. It was horrible. Like a demon was speaking for him, so I cried. Then he picked me by my arms and I knew where we were going. He didn't care how much it hurt that he dragged me up the stairs like a girl with her doll. Then he made his way to the bathroom with one hand around my neck and another on the hot water faucet in the tub. He had done this to me several times before. I didn't think I deserved it this time. I was just hungry! If he didn't want me to break something then he shouldn't have been sleeping. I didn't need to be burned. I didn't. I cried harder at the thought of how scalding hot that water as going to be on my back. He yanked my shirt off and grabbed my neck again. I was scared. So scared. I could see the vapor coming off the water that rushed out and that hissing noise the faucet made was worse than my father's yelling from before. I closed my eyes as he shoved me under that cruel water. But it wasn't the water's fault I thought. It was his. The water didn't want to be mean, he made it that way. Maybe if I asked the water to it would stop hissing at us and just cooled down it would.Then I was under the faucet. I didn't feel my back being burned. I felt like I was hanging outside while it was raining. The water was cool, but not too cool. My eyes opened and I was staring at the inside of the tub and I looked over the man who held me. His face was funny. Screwed up with thinking. The water wasn't hot at all and after a while it occurred to him that it wasn't going to heat up again. He dropped me like a dog and I hit my head. He stormed out and I think he yelled "_Clean up you fucking pig._"

I wonder if they had abilities. From what you told me, Claire's mother manipulates fire and Nathan can fly and somehow that results in her grand ol' regeneration skill. So if they did had some power I'm guessing it wouldn't have anything with my water manipulation. I never thought until recently that I had anything to do with calming the water. I thought that some angel was looking down decided enough of this and cooled it. I remember I use to believe in angels. Then I saw my father murder my mother and thought to hell with them. Then I saw a girl hang herself and I knew that they never existed to begin with.

Woops. I guess I just ruined the climax for you. First time for everything, right?

My mother could sing well. Maybe that was her special gift. She had a voice that put a Disney Princess to shame. My father was prone to acting out like a beast and my mother would play the role of Belle and sing a little folk tune that I never heard of. He would calm right down and relax on the couch, head on her lap. She'd caress his hair and sing. She was a thin woman. Thin and pale and rich dark hair that matched her glittering eyes. I guess it's natural for a child to prefer his or her mother, especially after being murdered and left to lie in a puddle of her own blood by her husband.

"_Merry fucking Christmas!_" He screamed, the demon back in his throat. "_Merry FUCKING CHRISTMAS, Tracey!_" She just lied there, unresponsive.

My mother's name was Sarah. So as I stared at her, her thin frame sprawled out in the corner with the bloodied metal box a few inches away on the red stained floor, I just couldn't help but to wonder who Tracey was.

I doubt you would know who Tracey could be.


	3. Transformation

I feel like I'm skipping around. Inconsistency is my middle name. And I'll be taking that lame sentence fragment as a transition into revealing my birth name. I know, gorgeous _and _clever. How do I manage? I know the tone of this is a little contradicted to the depressing rememory of my childhood. Back when I was called Selena Rosenberg. You know it never occurred to me that you might know my real name. Or maybe my name was on the list as Jenny. When we first met you called me Jenny and you've made no indication that you knew anything about Selena. I use to love my name. It was so beautiful and there something magical about it I use to think. But that stopped after I turned 12. I was 11 when I last saw Sarah. I was 12 when I was put in a foster house. It was upstate. Very upstate. If I stood in the top of a mountain I could see Canada, I bet.

I remember running away alot. Away from that house. It was a woman and her husband and their one son. The woman was kind and her husband was a bastard. Her son was at that age. You know that age when boys realize they're men and they own everything. I don't think you went through that. Not the way he did at least.

My father was gone. The woman, I think they called her Muriel. I called her M. She wanted me to call her 'mom'. I called her M. She was heavily religious and told me everyday that my father was going to hell and that he'll never lay a hand on me again. I didn't really understand what she meant by that. He wasn't overly abusive from what I remember.Well, from what I wanted to remember. They were an odd family. They were wealthy and lived in a gated community, staying in one house. Muriel was concerned at first because I never unpacked my things when I moved in. With all the fancy houses around I couldn't imagine why they would settled in just one. I didn't care to remember her husband's name. Or her son's. I hate the way they would say my name. They would hold onto the 's' sound too long like a snake or something. The son would play with my hair too much. He'd comb and sing my name. He was 5 years older. A 17 year old boy shouldn't bother with a young girl like that. But he did. He'd get to close and I would tell Muriel and she just thought I was hallucinating because of the way my father treated me. I knew what he was doing. I knew it was wrong.

There was this girl who lived next door. She had pretty red hair. I loved her red curls, how her bangs curled around her emerald eyes. Her name was Jenny.Anderson. We became best friends quickly. She was so beautiful and nice. She was insanely brilliant. She was my age and 2 grades ahead of me in school. She told me of her dreams of being a doctor. She wanted to help people with mental problems. I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder but Muriel didn't believe in medical treatment. She thought prayer was all I needed. Jenny helped me out with alot of my issues, though I never told her what Muriel's son was doing in case she found out and told people and they ended up not believing her like Muriel did with me.

I was there for 5 years. I was 17 when I walked into Jenny's garage to get away from Muriel and her family. Jenny's parents were gone I suppose, otherwise they would've been there sooner. I lifted the garage door above my head and before I knew what even happened I saw Jenny jump from a ladder. I heard her neck snap and I saw scars on her wrists. A letter floated down below her feet. She just swung there. Her red curls covered her face. The door slammed down behind me and I broke to my knees. It wasn't her. I refused to believe it was her and that she willingly did this to us. The rope around her neck was tied to a metal support beam. It was my crying and the creaking of the rope that filled the garage. I followed a dim light to the paper at her feet and turned my back, afraid to look at her. I couldn't feel my heart beat as I read her last words. Her last note for the world to read. She wrote how Jake had been molesting her recently and it was last night he had raped her. She told his father in tears and he called her a whore and smacked her and told her how he was going to press charges if she told anyone else. That was enough for her I guess. Slashing her wrists didn't work so she grabbed a rope to stop her nightmares.

Jake was Muriel son. I learn his name then. I said it once in the 5 years I lived there and I was screaming it as I shot him multiple times.

That's what they told me what happened. I woke up in a nuthouse with no memory and scars all over my body.

They were like a map of my misery.

In the hospital told me that I had gone insane with grief and killed Jake and then used knife all over my arms and legs.

That's when they told me that I've done it before. That I stabbed my father after he killed my mother.

They said because I was too young at the time to realize the nature of my crime along with the years of sexual and physical abuse and that I just forgot all about it and decided to watch me close as I became an adult. I was told there was a slim chance that the 2 incidents were related. They described it as 2 different people committing 2 different crimes. I wouldn't have to be pay for my crime but I would have to stay at the institution for treatment. They. They. They. They. They. They. Stupid faceless doctors. Stupid arrogant doctors. Complaining about how cold my room was. Nurses walking into my little white cell with sweaters on. They all called me Jenny.

I was out before I was 18. After that I took Jenny's name, I left Selena Rosenberg behind and slipped into the unfulfilled life of a dead girl.

How do you feel, knowing you fuck a bi-polar, sexually, physically, mentally, abused girl.

Well, you don't.

You sleep with Jenny Anderson.


	4. A Horrible Apology

So, that's the jist of it. I moved to New York Ciry immediately for no particular reason, it's just really easy to get lost there. In a way New York City is like my mind in that sense. Though, despite all the madness there is pattern if you open your eyes.

The man who attacked us was Muriel's husband, Jake's father. I never thought he'd come back into my life after all these years. Worse yet, I never suspected him of having any...ability. I'm sorry Mohinder. You didn''t know who he was. If you did you would've at least protected yourself. But being you, you let him in like the gentleman you are. You offered him tea. He caused your skin to erupt into boils and gave you a fever of 104 and most likely did some more internal damage. He was a doctor. Probably why the family was so wealthy. Might of even fucked up Jenny's head when he slapped her. Might be the reason for some of my illnesses. Who knows how badly he fucked you up.

You ask me questions I don't answer. I think answered alot of them to your satsifaction right here.

Now I have one question for you. Can you stand the sight of me now?


End file.
